summary ⋆୨୧⋆ in which you've managed to convince the greatest jujutsu sorcerer of your time into getting pink highlights. what could go wrong? a lot, you learn.
contents ⋆୨୧⋆ spoilers!, pure fluff & rusty writing
notes ⋆୨୧⋆ let's start off easy, shall we? feedback is most certainly welcome & would be much appreciated! enjoy ₊˚ෆ
"come on, it's only temporary!"
"not a chance! do you know how much time and effort i put into caring for these lustrous locks?"
"it'll grow out anyways," you huff, setting down the contents of the hair dye kit on the bathroom counter. "and here i thought you were the adventurous type."
"adventure is one thing, but this? this would be an act of vandalism," satoru feigns a look of betrayal, silver lashes framing his wide blue orbs, "like defacing the mona lisa."
you gasp in exaggeration, clasping a hand over your mouth. if there was one thing on the boy’s long list of things he loved about you, it'd be your ability to keep up with his personality.
"sure. but don't you get tired of always having the same old hairstyle? maybe it'd be nice to switch it up every now and then, yknow?"
"i hardly doubt anyone could ever get tired of this." he gestures to himself, standing tall, a smirk gracing his features.
“and you love that about me.”
you do your best to hide the smile that threatens to break free, chewing on your bottom lip. “oh but you’d look absolutely gorgeous,” you plead, voice dripping with honey as you cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the countertop. you bat your lashes at him, round doe eyes peering into sparkling azure pools.
the look you give him makes his heart do flips and his gaze softens ever so slightly. he can't say no to you, not when you're gazing up at him with those puppy-dog eyes of yours. you’re perfectly aware of the effect you have on him, but that’s not to say you’d ever take advantage of him. if anything, you’re just as smitten.
satoru adores gratifying you, answering to your every beck and call, no matter the request, even if they can be a little odd at times. who was he to deny you anything when you looked so entrancing?
he pretends to ponder, drumming his fingers along the cool ceramic of the sink counter. if you're quiet enough, you might hear the way the gears in his head shift as he puts on a show of overtly dramatised deliberation. it almost makes you snort, but after a minute or two of silence, he caves in, shoulders slumping.
"if it makes you happy," he breathes, flicking his gaze back to you as you perk up with excitement, light practically radiating off of you. he might come to regret this in a few hours, but when he sees the way your eyes sparkle with a radiance that seems so pure, he thinks it won’t be so bad. after all, it is only temporary.
"just so i get to hear it again," he pauses, slender fingers intertwining with yours as he guides you over to him and plops down onto the closed seat of the toilet, long legs splayed on either side of you. "you think i'm gorgeous?"
“not quite yet,” you say, running your fingers through his silver locks, admiring the soft lavender undertones. his glasses are sitting just above the tip of his nose, brilliant sapphire depths on full display. no matter how many times you’ve looked him in the eye,, it always manages to knock the air out of your lungs. “i’ll see what i can do.”
“aren’t you a sweetheart?”
he exhales, humming in agreement as he relaxes under your touch and relishes in the scent of your skin, not the fragrance of perfume or shampoo, but you.
this is nice, you think. free time has always been hard to come by, even more so for gojo than you. things had changed after the star plasma vessel incident. he had changed, and although he did his best to hide it, you knew better. you were there to ground him, to remind him of his humanity and his purpose for becoming a sorcerer. you were there to keep him afloat.
"so!" you clap, startling him enough to knock his glasses askew, "let's get started!"
"booo," he pouts, like some child. he likes to think you're like this because of him, that you've spent so much time with him you've essentially become a miniature satoru gojo. the thought of it makes him feel all warm and mushy inside, something he really only feels with you, despite how popular he is with people.
you get to work, skimming through the pamphlet of instructions. satoru attempts to help you, mostly by staring whilst seated on the toilet, questioning if you really knew what you were doing. you stick out your tongue at him as did he, tugging on his lower eyelid.
you manage to end up with a bowl of bright pink sludge, the scent of chemicals wafting through the enclosed space of your bathroom. satoru grimaces, both at the smell and how awfully pigmented the dye seemed, cautiously eyeing the mixture held between your gloved hands.
“you’re sure this is temporary?”
“mhmm!” you say, throwing a towel over his shoulders to shield his black linen shirt from any stray drops of hair dye. contrary to popular belief, the all-powerful jujutsu sorcerer doesn’t make use of his infinity when there was no real need to, his reasoning something akin to him wanting to experience moments of normalcy with those close to him.
“i’m great aren’t i? strong, handsome with a heart of gold,” he’d said, standing in akimbo.
“in an alternate universe, sure.”
you smile at the memory, recalling the way he tutted when you responded, earning chuckles from both shoko and geto.
“y’know on second thought–” satoru’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, “maybe blue would be a better option? make my eyes pop and all that,” he stalls, turning to look at you.
“it’s not gonna be this bright toru, it’ll be a lot lighter once we rinse you off. besides, i’ve only got pink right now–“
“but you already said we could–“
and you’re both tugging, trying to grab ahold of the bowl. “toru stop it! you’re gonna–“
silence falls between the both of you, letting the sound of droplets hitting the floor echo loud in your ears. you’re wide eyed in disbelief, and it takes you a moment before you press your lips together in a futile attempt to conceal the snort that bubbles from your throat.
“don’t you look pretty?” geto teases, snapping a photo of satoru’s lifeless body as he sits limp at his desk, looking as if his soul had left his body. you’re sure it did last night after rinsing him off in the shower, fully clothed, the sight of him drenched in fuchsia finding a permanent home in your brain. shoko echoes after the raven-haired boy, resting her head on a closed fist.
satoru’s once moonlit hair now a splotchy mess of soft pink, the hair dye staining his eyebrows an even brighter shade of bubblegum. you had to practically drag him out the bathroom by the feet afterward.
“what have you done?” he whined, voice breaking.
“me?!” you gasped, “you had a part to play in this too!”
it was a miracle he’d even changed out of his wet clothes, albeit it taking around an hour or so. you’re sure he laid on the floor for the rest of the night after you’d left, geto being the first to find him in the exact same position this morning. thankfully, you hadn’t had to drag him to class.
at the very least, this would be another fond memory you’d share together.
